Cinnamon in the Storm
by DarkUnicorn14
Summary: The storm raging the Phantomhive Estate is wild and terrifying, especially to Ciel Phantomhive, who has always had a deep, secret fear of thunder. Sebastian is amused by his master's childish fears, but then assassins take advantage of the stormy night to break into the Phantomhive mansion and Ciel is left to face his fears... but will he be alone? SebastianXCiel.


_**Just a little short story I wrote. Some SebastianxCiel, but not too intense. (If you want really intense, look into my WillxGrell fanfic, 'Red'!) I still absolutely love it, though. Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji belongs to the genius who is Yana Toboso only.**_

**Cinnamon in the Storm**

The grounds of the Phantomhive estate were flooded: gurgling fountains overflowing, soggy plants dripping, pavement soaked and slick with rainwater. Rain fell so thickly that it looked like a sheet of grey had descended from the sky and a pane of fogged glass had been placed before it.

As a matter of fact, from a certain young Earl's perspective, there _was_ a pane of glass separating him from the downpour. He was seated at the head of a table in the dining room, warm and dry inside the well-lit manor while outside, the wind screamed like a banshee and the rain pummelled the walls with a persistency that was to be admired. _Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi sed saepe cadendo_, Ciel thought to himself wryly. The Latin proverb seemed appropriate: 'a water drop hollows a stone not by force, but by falling often'.

"Dear me," the Phantomhive butler remarked to his master as he poured a stream of wine straight into a glass without spilling a drop, a slight smile pasted on his stunningly handsome face. "It sounds like quite the storm outside."

"The gardens will flood," his master said in a monotone voice as he methodically sawed his steak into small, exact pieces. Sebastian noted with some amusement how meticulously his master's plate was arranged, with all the different foods separated so that they wouldn't get 'contaminated' by touching. What a fastidious master he had to look after.

"You _do_ have a gardener, my lord." Albeit an incompetent one.

The peaceful serenity inside the manor was abruptly shattered by a long crescendo of thunder, which started out softly but slowly gathered intensity until it reached a bellowing roll that crackled menacingly. The crystals in the chandelier above the table tinkled. Ciel jerked in his seat and Sebastian pretended not to notice, smiling vacantly as expected of him.

"Finny is incompetent," he said in dismissal after taking a deep breath, voicing Sebastian's disdainful thoughts. His voice was stiff and edged with wariness. "He will just make the gardens more of a mess. You will take care of it as soon as the storm stops, Sebastian."

"Yes, sir." Sebastian considered his little master, who seemed rather ill at ease, for a few moments. Then a slight smile overtook his lips, for an amusing thought had come to his mind, before daring to ask, "Are you afraid of thunder, Young Master?"

"What a silly question! What are you implying, Sebastian?" Ciel demanded.

Sebastian, of course, noticed that Ciel was avoiding answering the question, but although his smile grew, he faithfully overlooked it. "Nothing at all," he murmured. Traces of amusement and derisiveness dripped heavily on each word. "My mistake, my lord."

"Don't play games with me, Sebastian." Ciel picked up his wine glass and sipped at the scarlet liquid. It was darker than blood, a shade of maroon that matched Sebastian's eyes. It was actually rather unnerving, he decided, setting it back down.

"Does the wine displease you, my lord?" The demon shifted slightly behind Ciel's chair, his sleeve brushing and arm rest and rustling. The sudden noise made Ciel jump again.

"Yes," the Earl said decisively and quickly, eager to hide his embarrassment over his jitters. "I desire white wine. Wait, no. Champagne."

You desire red wine. You desire white wine. You desire champagne, Sebastian thought scornfully. Did Ciel expect him to just conjure up a new bottle each time? Apparently so. He released a microscopic sigh that was hardly noticeable, just a tiny escaping of his breath through his full lips, and bowed dutifully, his back poker-straight.

"Please excuse me. I'll retrieve it right away," the dutiful butler said outwardly. Inwardly, a mocking demon derided with contempt.

As soon as Sebastian's black-clad figure had left the room, Ciel exhaled sharply. His head found itself in his hands, his fingers massaging his temples wearily. "Damn this storm," he said quietly to himself. In answer to his curse, the rain intensified, pounding on the windows with renewed fervour and rattling the glass.

The room vanished in a lightning strike, swathed in a blinding white light for little more than half a second before fading back to normal. Ciel tensed, waiting for it; and then it came, the thunder that growled and snapped like an incensed animal. His bones reverberated with the sound of it, practically singing beneath his skin, and he felt goose bumps erupt all over his arms and legs, the miniscule hairs on them standing up straight as if electrified by the lightning.

Storms had always frightened him. When he was little, he would tip-toe to his parents' room and they would be already awake, expecting him with open arms and tender kisses. He would crawl into the bed between them and fall asleep to their fondling, knowing that he was warm and safe and loved.

Now they were gone, and he was left alone to face his fears. Ciel gritted his teeth, hating that pathetic part of him that recoiled every time the storm roared and made him long for someone to shield him with their body. He was not a touchy person, but in that moment, he felt both his parents' and Sebastian's absence very prominently.

Ciel willed Sebastian to hurry up as more lightning illuminated the night and then the lights flickered out, plunging him into gloom. It couldn't take this long to fetch a bottle of champagne, could it? Damned butler. Damned storm.

There was suddenly a loud crash, like that of porcelain dishes shattering, and Ciel froze in his seat with his fork halfway to his mouth. He strained his ears, making out a grunting that was distinctly human. Quietly, he set down his fork, stood up, and pulled the pistol out from his pocket, sliding back the safety and putting his finger to the trigger. His heart was pounding against his ribs in a frenzy to escape. He wanted to call out for Sebastian, but then he ran the risk of the intruder overhearing him.

Ciel backed into a wall, trying to breathe as silently as he could at the same time as soothe his panic. He felt too exposed at the table in the middle of the gloomy room, with empty darkness looming on four sides, but at the same time the dark hid him, unlike the window with its faint trickle of light. He found himself next to it all the same, his spine pressed against the sill so that a sharp pain bloomed in his back. Slowly, he flicked his eye to the side and shivered when he saw the angry torrent of rain lashing toward him, only to be stopped by the glass.

He only realized his mistake when he heard the gun being cocked. While it was too dark to make out the intruder in the dining room, he himself was standing in a pool of light from the window. This was a game of 'I can see you, but you can't see me' and the intruder was taking the advantage.

"Stop where you are," Ciel said, smiling. In a hidden place deep inside of him, fear flickered, but he repressed it and instead filled his voice with mockery. "We don't allow trespassing on the Phantomhive Estate." Where was Sebastian? These were his lines to say, not Ciel's. Why should the master be reduced to pathetic threats and cowering in a corner when his butler—needless to say, his _demon_ butler who as contracted to him—was supposed to defend him?

"Sorry, kid, doesn't seem that way," the stranger sniggered. The voice came from close proximity to the dining table; the intruder was likely taking cover near it.

Ciel took a deep breath. Sebastian would come if his life was endangered; he always did. Yet, like each time Ciel found himself in a perilous situation, a tiny bud of uncertainty sprung up in his mind in the few seconds before the action. One—no Sebastian. The intruder advanced in the darkness, leering. Two—no Sebastian. His heartbeat fluttered weakly like a dying butterfly as a gun was pointed at him. Even though he still held his pistol, Ciel found himself unable to raise it, paralysed from panic or fear or both. Three—no Sebastian. Ciel didn't close his eyes. He was too proud to die like a coward, so he was looking straight into the barrel of the gun when the trigger was pushed.

And suddenly Ciel was on the other side of the room, and rough fabric that smelled vaguely of cinnamon was pressed against his face. Sebastian's coat, he realized. And it was Sebastian's arms that held him so securely, protecting him from the bullet.

"Ah, Young Master," Sebastian whispered into his ear, his cool breath erecting the hairs on the back of Ciel's neck. "I apologize for being late. Intruders were all over the house. This one disbanded and fled before I could put him out of action. Allow me to take care of it now. Oh, and my lord? Remember to close your eyes." Then he was gone, and Ciel closed his eyes just as there came an inhuman scream from somewhere in the room. He felt cold air flock around the middle of the room, presumably where Sebastian had reverted to his true form, and feathers rustled. More screaming mixed with the rumbling of thunder, and Ciel automatically curled his knees up to his chest. At the next clap of thunder, his eyes flashed open and he scanned the darkness urgently. The screams had faded and now there was only thunder, shaking the mansion with the strength of its wrath.

"Sebastian?" he called quietly, uncertain. Shadows danced out of the corner of his eyes, only to vanish when he turned to confront them. "Where are you?"

Two carmine pinpricks lit up in the darkness, lustrous with a demonic aura. Sebastian moved toward the window so that the feeble light slid over him, revealing his silhouette with its glowing eyes. "I am here, my lord. Come, now. Do not be frightened." He reached a gloved hand toward his master and touched him.

Ciel jumped.

"Are you certain you're not of thunder, my lord?" the demon mocked, chuckling darkly.

"Don't be absurd," was the scathing reply, but then the loudest clap of thunder yet shook the house and a small sound of surprise emanated from Ciel's lips. Unintentionally, his hand squeezed Sebastian's and the butler looked at him with a knowing smile. "It's just a little disconcerting."

"Of course, my lord." Sebastian's eyes had dimmed, the glow fading, but there was something tender in them when he looked upon his master. He noticed him shivering. "Are you cold?"

"A little," Ciel admitted, but what he didn't say was that it was not the cold that had him shivering.

Even without words, Sebastian seemed to understand. He placed his hands on Ciel's shoulders, pulling him to his chest, and Ciel turned his head to hide it in the fabric of his waistcoat. All he could smell was cinnamon.

"Thank you," he mumbled into Sebastian's chest, feeling arms tighten around him comfortingly.

"Young Master," Sebastian acknowledged with a softness in his voice that Ciel had never heard before. One of his gloved hands moved up to touch his master's dark charcoal hair. "There is no need for fear… I will protect you, whether it be from assassins or the storm itself. Your fears will be kept at bay." A Phantomhive butler who can't do this much isn't worth his salt, he thought with a small smile that conveyed his satisfaction.

Ciel made a noise that may have been gratification. "I know, Sebastian."

For those precious moments, the two of them stood together in silence in the darkness, listening to the wild rage of the wind and rain and thunder. The scent of cinnamon in the storm intensified as Sebastian held his little master close, and Ciel did not pull away.


End file.
